The Younger Wife(46)

‘That’s tough. I’m so sorry.’

‘It ruined me for a while.’ He shrugged. ‘I became pretty depressed. I found it hard to even get out of bed in the morning.’

‘Is that why you were on the long-term unemployed program?’

He nodded. ‘I probably could have found a job, if I really wanted one. But I was angry that I’d worked so hard for something and it was taken away for reasons completely beyond my control. I moved back to Mum’s, and for a while I didn’t do anything. Eventually, Mum said I had to do something or she’d kick me out. She probably wouldn’t have, but I didn’t want to take that chance. So now I work for you.’

‘But you always seem so upbeat,’ Rachel said. ‘I never would have known.’

‘The downside of being as charming and charismatic as I am,’ he said with a rueful grin, ‘is that people don’t tend to know when I’m suffering.’

Rachel smiled. ‘So how are you doing now?’

‘Better,’ he said. ‘Definitely better. Mum was right; it turned out I just needed to do something to get out of my head and back into the world. But I’m sorry to tell you that I’m not the catch you thought I was.’

‘Who says I thought you were a catch?’

Darcy laughed raucously, and Rachel couldn’t help but join in. They were just starting to get on top of their laughter when the waiter arrived and began unloading an absurdly large amount of food onto the table. Rachel felt the giggles start to bubble up again, even before he returned to the kitchen to get the rest.

‘Can I get you anything else?’ the waiter asked, when the entire bar area was covered in plates, and people were glancing over from their tables to see what was going on.

‘This will do to start,’ Darcy said, straight-faced. ‘We’ll let you know when we’re ready for the main course.’

After that, Rachel couldn’t hold it in any longer. She laughed until tears ran down her face. She laughed until she forgot that the man on the beach existed, until she was just a normal woman, out on a date at a Mexican restaurant, with a very cute man.





26


HEATHER


Heather wore the pantsuit to dinner. It was, now that she thought about it, a good choice. No need to worry about bending over, lots of room to fit in dessert.

Mary and Michael’s house was like something out of a fairy tale. As Stephen drove into a circular brick driveaway surrounded by climbing roses, Heather gripped the bouquet of flowers that Stephen said was unnecessary. She was grateful she’d insisted, though, because it gave her something to do with her trembling hands. Yes, this was the life she wanted – civilised dinners in beautiful homes, thoughtful conversation with intelligent people. But there was also something terrifying about getting what you’d always wanted. She could’ve used a drink, just to take the edge off her nerves.

They were greeted at the door by both Mary and Michael, which Heather found quite charming. Was that the done thing when people had dinner parties – answering the door as a team? Heather didn’t know, but she made a mental note to try it if she and Stephen had anyone over for dinner.

‘Hello!’ Mary exclaimed. If she had any mixed feelings about meeting her old friend’s replacement, she hid it well. ‘You must be Heather. We’re so happy to meet you.’

Mary was in her late fifties, at a guess. There was no visible sign that she’d had any cosmetic work done, and she seemed to embody the idea of beauty at any age, with her shiny grey-blonde hair, tailored pants and shirt, and flat shoes. She wore minimal make-up, plain gold studs and a matching necklace. Understated. Heather felt quietly grateful that she hadn’t gone for the dress. Once again, Stephen had steered her right.

Michael greeted Heather just as kindly as Mary had, and ushered them into a beautiful dining room, complete with old-fashioned fireplace, thick embossed curtains and ornate ceiling details. The table was set with flowers and beautiful linen napery. Another couple rose to their feet as Stephen and Heather entered.

‘This is Elsa and David,’ Mary said. ‘Elsa, David, this is Heather.’

Elsa and David murmured politely, but unlike Mary and Michael, their manner was aloof. Their smiles were fleeting and they didn’t quite meet Heather’s eye when they greeted her.

‘Why don’t you sit down this end, Heather,’ Mary said. ‘Michael, can you get Heather a champagne?’

Heather had practised declining a drink all day. She’d actually googled polite ways to do it. Google, as usual, had been quite helpful and provided her with many suggestions, including saying she was on medication, that it ‘didn’t agree with her’ or that she was recovering from an illness. Heather’s favourite, which she’d decided to use tonight, was, ‘Just sparkling water for me,’ in a polite but firm voice. In none of the googled scenarios had the host just placed a drink directly in her hand, as Michael did now.

‘So, Heather,’ Mary said, sitting at the head of the table, ‘Stephen tells me you’re an interior designer. I’ll have to get you to come and look around this place. God knows it could use some modernising!’

‘If the rest is anything like what I’ve seen so far, I wouldn’t change a thing,’ Heather said.

‘That’s what she said to me,’ Stephen said, ‘right before she tore the place down to the studs.’